


The Pickup Truck

by H4T08



Series: Behind the Door [7]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Episode: s02e01 The 37's, F/M, Ford - Freeform, Pickup truck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 08:25:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11551338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/H4T08/pseuds/H4T08
Summary: For the longest time, he stares at it in awe. Yes it's rusted and he'll never be able to start it – let alone drive it – but he can't help but feel a buzz of excitement racing through his veins. The 1936 Ford truck has seen better days, but she is a beauty!





	The Pickup Truck

**Author's Note:**

> Post-ep for "The 37's".
> 
> Italics implies character's thoughts.
> 
> I am totally ignoring the Stardates (just this once) and going with the series order. It just made the story between this and the next installment flow better. 
> 
> Also, originally, I didn't write this with the previous ones (which I started writing a few months ago). I rewatched this episode yesterday and thought, what happened to the truck? Hence, this story is born. I wrote it within the past hour or so, all mistakes are mine.

Stealing a glance over his shoulder, Chakotay walks as fast as he can to his destination. He had heard all of the chatter about it and had been dying to see it for himself. Yet, with the distress call – _I think they called it an S.O.S_ – and the subsequent journey down to rescue the now known 37’s, he is finally getting his chance to see it.

He had to wait until he was certain that Paris had gone to his quarters for the night; another reason it has taken him a little longer to see it. Inputting his command code onto the screen and making sure that it locks after he makes his entrance, the doors open. Gasping when he finally sees it with his own two eyes, he can't help but think, _well worth the wait_!

For the longest time, he stares at it in awe. Yes it's rusted and he'll never be able to start it – _let alone drive it_ – but he can't help but feel a buzz of excitement racing through his veins. _The 1936 Ford truck has seen better days, but she is a beauty!_ Reaching out with shaky fingers, he barely grazes the cool metal when he hears music starting from the front cab.

Tilting his head side to side to get a better look, the only thing he can see is that someone is sitting in the front drivers seat. As he steps over to the passenger side, the melodic notes of the jazz number becomes louder as he gets closer to the open window. Just as he peeks in, he lets out his baited breath when he sees the last person he would have ever thought that would be caught in **this** automobile. “Captain?”

His voice reverberates through the truck, making Kathryn jump in fright. Throwing her PADD into the air, she tries to catch it, but ends up pushing the button to the horn with one hand and hitting her other wrist on the gear shift.

As the old automobile horn sounds off against the walls of the cargo bay, he covers his ears and sends his glowering Captain an apologetic smile. Just as she picks up her PADD up from the floorboard, he gently says, “I didn't mean to scare you.”

She rolls her eyes, “Yes, well, give a girl some warning before you go creeping up to her.” She softens the scowl on her face as his dimples bloom along his cheeks and lightly quips, “It might just be the last thing you do.”

Feeling his smile grow, his chest fills with enuemerous satisfaction when he notices her eyes focus in on his mouth and cheeks. “In my defense, I thought I was alone in here. It wasn't until I heard your music playing that I knew someone else decided to visit the antique.” Holding his hands out to the door, he asks, “May I join you?”

Alarm bells began sounding off in her mind, but he had been kind to her earlier when she vented her reservations out on him at opening up the idea of staying on the Earth-like planet to the crew. He even came with her to the cargo bay to meet with any crew members willing to stay. He had told her that it was his job as the former Maquis Captain, but his support at the daunting prospect of loosing an unknown amount of crew members was immense and well appreciated. So, despite her hesitancy and not wanting to be rude, she silently nods.

After a few tries, he finally pulls down on the handle far enough to grant him entrance onto the passenger side. Scooting in and closing the door, the childhood memory of going to a old car museum gleefully plays in his mind. “When I was about ten, my family had come to Earth to celebrate the arrival of my cousin. While there, my mother took me to a museum that was filled with all different types of cars, automobiles, motorcycles, and trucks. I even got to go inside a R.V.! Ever since then, I had wanted to build a automobile all on my own. My father thought it was nonsense and my mother had told me that it would be impossible with the limited supplies at our disposal at home. When I was finally old enough to join the Academy, I dreamed of finally building my own car, but then I became busy with work, projects, and then eventually assignments that I had given up on that dream.”

Trying to picture a young Chakotay tinkering with engine parts and rusted metals made her smile. “You have a nice truck here to work on,” she offered brightly.

He shakes his head, “Tom Paris has already claimed it and I am willing to concede. If it will keep him out of trouble, even for the next few weeks, then I call that an equal draw.”

“Then what will keep **you** out of trouble?” She had meant for it to be playful, instead her voice sounded husky and coy at the idea of Chakotay being a trouble maker.

His eyes sparkle at the glimpse of her flirty side. He hadn't seen it in so long – four months! – that he was afraid he would never see it again. Offering her dimples for days, he coyly quips back, “Dinners with you is always a sure bet, yet, in the long run, I end up getting into more trouble.” He leans in closer so that the tip of his nose is barely a few centimeters from her ear and whispers, “But, I find that it's worth it, regardless.” Noticing goosebumps erupting across her neck, he is then rewarded when she turns to face him. _So close, yet, I don't want her to run again_. Stealing a few more seconds to stare into her baby blue eyes, he then slowly pulls away to give her back her space.

Her voice, bereft and swept away the moment she could feel his breath tickle her cheek, lodges deep into her throat, refusing to make a sound until her heart beats at a normal pace once again. Glancing back down at her report she was reading, they dive head first into a comfortable silence. As he fiddles with the static of the AM frequency on the radio, she lifts her head up and offers, “It doesn't play anything. I overheard Mr. Paris wanting to add in a data reader so that it can play the music of choice to anyone wanting to ‘borrow’ the truck.”

“Borrow the truck?”

“Mmm-hmm,” she nods her head as she taps her screen to plays the music she had been listening to when he had scared her. “Already, when I came in earlier, I had caught Jarvin and Monroe in here making out like rowdy teenagers. I told them that they should finish their date back in one of their quarters just in case Tuvok wants to make one of his surprise rounds.”

His brow furrows in thought when her explanation doesn't add up. “But he never does a surprise inspection while he has control of the bridge.”

She gives him a fierce grin as her eyes sparkle in mirth, “You know that and I know that, but they didn't. They all but ran out of here so fast that I kinda felt bad.”

He lifts his brow, catching on to her deviousness, “But not that bad, ehh?”

She bites her bottom lip in guilt and quickly answers, “Nope.” Once again allowing them to drown in silence, the soothing jazzy sounds of her music fills the air between them. It isn't until she finishes reading her report when she mutters under her breath, “Thank you.”

“For what?” His eyes stay focused on the time piece that is built into the dash, but he perks up his ears.

“For going with me to the cargo bay.” She stares intently at the black screen of her powered down tablet and nervously scratches her nail along the side. “I had thought that… I was afraid… I didn't know what to expect,” she finally settles on with a huff of frustration. Taking a deep breath, she mentally stops her mind from overthinking what she wants to say. “These past few months, you have been incredibly supportive of, not only this ship and its crew, but also of me. It means a lot knowing that the first moment you saw me, you hated me.” Gaining the courage, she looks up to him and gives him a weak smile as she fiddled with the edge of the screen. “And then that last time I was in your quarters, I said somethings that were not nice.”

Straightening her body so that she is staring out of the window, she grits her teeth to keep the tears that are threatening to fall at bay. “Everyday, I wake up expecting to find Mark next to me and, at the same time, I am I find myself residing in the fact that I will never see him again.” Swiping away a tear that has gathered in the corner of her eye, she murmurs into her palm, “I have pushed him away numerous times at varying levels of cruelness, yet, he has always refused to leave my side.”

“You love each other very much.” At first, his erratic heart was pounding at the thought of her wanting to resume their dinners, yet, now he is not so sure anymore. _I want us to become closer - ironically more than I want to reach Earth - but not at the cost of her teetering back and forth between me and the ghost of what she had with Mark. She will end up hating me and herself. We can't afford that, not seventy thousand light years away from home._

“We do… well at least we did.” Her breath is shaky as she looks to the ceiling of the antique truck for guidance. “By now, they have assumed that we have been killed. He will hold on to the idea that we are still alive, but only for so long.” She suddenly looks to him, imploring him with her wide eyes, “Is it right for me to hold out on that very same idea when I know we are so far from home? To deny myself a companion for the next seventy years as punishment for stranding us out here?”

He holds his breath within his lungs, never daring to move a muscle for fear that the sudden movement will scare her away. _She is struggling with this, he understands, but she should not punish herself. But maybe that's just me being selfish. Would I be having the same thoughts and pursuing this… relationship if I were married?_

She can see it in his face; the flash of doubt, with a side of worry and an inch of excitement. _Funny enough, his excitement is the most infectious feeling I has surging through me and it helps me cross that barrier I have been so scared to trespass._ “It will take me some time to get used to the fact that someone wants to spend time with me, the woman – a lonely woman – rather than me as the Captain.” Biting her bottom lip to steal a moment to punch up her nerve, she softly asks, “Will you give me that time?”

He smiles his biggest smile in a long time as relief floods through him. “Of course,” he reaches out and places his hand over hers, “but I won't give you forever. I refuse to. You deserve more for yourself than to reside to a lonely existence.” He can feel her hesitancy radiating off of her. _She's worried. What did Mother used to say when I was rushing about? Oh, yes…_ “My mother used to tell me that it's not about the destination, but the experiences and the friendships you gain in the journey.”

She returns his smile and nods her head, “My father used to say the same thing to me.” _Yet, letting go has always been the hardest part for me to overcome_. “However, I have a feeling he was talking about taking on too much workload at the Academy.” She smiles again, yet this time it doesn't reach her eyes – not even close. “I've got to get going.”

Removing his hand, he bows his head as he murmurs, “Have a good evening,” he stops, unsure of which term to use. _Personal or professional? ‘Always go for what you want to accomplish,’ another saying from Mother_. “Good night, Kathryn.”

The use of her first name is not lost on her, but despite all the emotions twirling about in her stomach, she finds it to be comforting. “Good night, Chakotay.” Opening the door, she slips out and leaves the cargo bay without a glance back. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think!


End file.
